Authors: Trish Milburn
During their hours of digging around the old stump, Chris, who was studying biology at the University of Tennessee like Shelly had a decade before him, had related the rich biodiversity of the Smoky Mountains. Reed had difficulty telling one tree from another, but the astounding numbers of plant and animal species made Shelly’s eyes light up like a little girl’s with a big, pink-frosted birthday cake. It didn’t matter if it was a daisy or a salamander, she loved nature in all its various forms.
A bird twittered in the trees above, a sweeter, chirpier sound than the one he’d heard while working on the cabin roof. He almost expected Shelly to step up behind him to identify the bird, but she didn’t appear.
Would he ever hear a bird, see a river or smell a flower again without thinking of her?
****
By the time night infiltrated the clearing Shelly called home, she was clad in her favorite summer pajamas and perched in front of the TV with a giant crockery bowl of popcorn and a glass of fresh lemonade. She pushed a copy of
Last of the Mohicans
into the DVD player and sat back to enjoy two hours of Daniel Day-Lewis at his best. Maybe staring at Daniel in long tresses and chest-baring frontier attire would push a certain modern-day detective from her mind.
But Daniel’s Nathaniel had barely met the beautiful Cora Munro when Shelly caught her mind drifting to the smile that had played across Reed’s lips as they’d floated down the Little River. He’d flirted with Marianne, acting more like his old self than he had since he’d arrived. The memory irked her. Did he think Marianne was pretty? Was he really interested in her or just passing the time until he could go home?
Well, if he was interested in Marianne, Shelly had no one to blame but herself. She’d suggested Marianne ask Reed to float the river. And if he hooked up with Marianne, maybe Shelly would be able to go two minutes without thinking of him.
She let her head fall against the back of the couch and tried to sort out the days since Reed had arrived at her doorstep like some knight in shining armor ready to do battle with the dragon. Only Reed’s armor was made of Kevlar, his sword a Glock, and the dragon a cold-blooded murderer bent on revenge.
Prior to his arrival, the last time she’d seen Reed was the final day of Eddie Victor’s trial. They’d hugged goodbye, but they’d both been in a daze, she a traumatized widow, he a grieving friend. Since she’d returned to Bobcat Ridge, she’d tried to forget her life in Texas had ever existed. And that included Reed.
During the good years before Troy’s death, Reed had been a constant in her life, though more of a big brother than any potential romantic interest. She knew he was good looking. Who wouldn’t? But when she’d felt the first stirring of attraction after his recent arrival, it had shocked her down to her soul. Shame, denial, curiosity and embarrassment had flooded her in turns.
Having rebuilt her life to a point where she could function, she didn’t want to remember the heart-ripping agony of losing her husband. She doubted she’d ever be able to see blood again without tossing the contents of her stomach. It wasn’t Reed’s fault the past was coming back to haunt her, but he’d been there to punish while Eddie—and Troy—hadn’t.
The booming of cannons from the video drew her attention. Nathaniel and company were canoeing through the darkness toward the besieged Fort William Henry. She shoved popcorn into her mouth and tried to concentrate on the movie, but before the scene ended, her thoughts had veered back toward the here and now.
When they’d returned from the river earlier in the day, she’d stalked away, determined to keep her distance from Reed, hoping that distance would dissolve the attraction. Even though her mind told her she had every right to seek love again, her heart balked at the idea.
Besides, if she did decide one day to give love a second chance, the last person she’d seek out was another cop. Having one love die in her arms was more than enough pain to last a lifetime.
A violent shiver shook her. No matter how long she lived, even if she married again one day, she’d never stop loving Troy or forget the helplessness and despair of her first wedding day. She’d already decided she’d never have another church wedding or a white dress. And she wasn’t giving another police officer her heart.
She stood abruptly, nearly knocking over her glass of lemonade. After depositing the empty bowl in the sink, she wandered through the small cabin, trailing her fingers over pieces of her life—the quilt her grandmother had stitched draped over the couch, a trophy she’d won during a spelling bee in the third grade, a family portrait from her and Sean’s high school days, snapshots of field trips during college. But nothing from beyond her graduation from UT.
After college, she’d gotten the job at the preserve in Dallas and headed off to protect the world and its wildlife. But in Texas she’d found more than a rewarding job and heat so oppressive she thought she might suffocate. She’d discovered love and figured she’d be a Texan for the rest of her life.
When Troy died, none of the rest had seemed important. She’d needed family, time alone and her mountains in which to roam and drown her immense sorrow.
As if drawn there, she now moved toward her bedroom closet, the sounds of the movie following her. She seated herself in the floor of the closet and started digging through boxes. She finally found the one she sought but sat with it perched on her crossed legs for several seconds. With a deep breath, she removed the lid. Everything was exactly as she remembered. The black velvet box that contained her engagement ring and wedding band, the unused champagne flutes, one of the wedding invitations on cream-colored textured paper, and a large stack of pictures of her, Troy, their families, Reed, dozens of other cops and her friends from the preserve.
She flipped through the photos, laughing at some, her eyes tearing up at others. The people staring back at her with light and vitality in their faces almost seemed like strangers. Troy was gone, Reed was a shell of his former self, their other friends’ lives had gone on. And she...well, she had just been taking it day by day with no thought very far in the future.
She swiped at an errant tear. Damn, she wanted to laugh and enjoy life as she had then. Nothing would ever be the same, but she didn’t have to avoid a man who’d been a dear friend, was still her friend, for fear that she might feel the tug of something deeper. Just because she felt it didn’t mean she had to act on it. She could spend time with Reed without him ever knowing and then deal with the consequences, if there were any, after he returned to Dallas.
A pang of loss hit her at the thought of him leaving Bobcat Ridge. But if Eddie did follow common sense to a life far away from her or if he made a wrong move that would send him back to jail, that’s exactly what Reed would do. His home, his job, his life were in Texas, a place she’d never be able to live again no matter how strong she grew. Coming home had not only helped her through the worst time of her life, but she’d eventually realized the Smokies were where she’d belonged all along.
She smiled. And based on Reed’s teasing comments about her "biology lessons," she couldn’t picture him searching the woods for bloodroot or coming face to face with a black bear. Nor could she imagine him considering pizza at Luigi’s in Bobcat Ridge followed by a pint of ice cream from Harry’s Grab-n-Go a night on the town.
She returned the snapshots to the box, her fingers grazing the plain manila envelope in the bottom. Her hand trembled. In the weeks following Troy’s death, she’d done nothing but stare at its contents. But since she’d returned to Tennessee and shoved the box in the back corner of the closet, she’d not opened the envelope once.
How would she react now, after all this time? The agony of widowhood had gradually dulled, leaving loneliness and regret in its place. Would the contents of the envelope spark only those emotions or a more soul-searing one?
Only one way to find out.
She slid the envelope free with the odd sensation that she needed to look inside, as if doing so would free a part of herself still held in the clutches of the past. She held her breath as she pulled the 8 X 10 portrait out. Troy dressed in a tux he’d hated the moment he saw it and her in a wedding gown any fairy princess would have given half her father’s kingdom to wear.
Her heart squeezed and she bit her lower lip, anticipating a trembling that oddly didn’t come. She glided her fingertips over Troy’s image. A mere half-hour after the picture had been snapped by Troy’s uncle, a professional photographer, Troy had died in her arms in the ER.
"Oh, Troy, I’m so sorry," she whispered. She was sorry she’d made him wear a tux, sorry they hadn’t been able to go on the Australian honeymoon they’d planned for more than a year, sorry they hadn’t been given the chance to know what married life was like, sorry he’d died so young with so much ahead of him.
A nearly blinding anger swamped her. She’d never truly hated anyone in her life until Eddie Victor had made her a widow. And in the past two years, that was the one emotion that hadn’t dimmed a bit. If possible, she hated Eddie even more than before. Because now he was trying to take her life in his hands again.
Well, she was having none of it. Reed might be there to protect her, but she was just as determined to protect him. Eddie would not rip away another man she cared about even if she wasn’t entirely sure what those feelings were and where they were headed. Well, they were headed nowhere permanent because he wouldn’t give up being a cop, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever want a long-term relationship again.
A swell in the movie’s soundtrack told her she’d been sitting in the bedroom longer than she realized. Uncas was running up the mountain to save Alice. She choked up. It was the one part of the movie she couldn’t watch anymore even though she knew none of the blood was real. She’d been there the day they’d filmed the scene atop Chimney Rock Mountain in North Carolina. Since its release in the theaters and then to video, she’d probably watched it a hundred times.
A laugh bubbled up, surprising her. Troy had hated the movie as much as she loved it. He’d derived great pleasure from making dramatic gagging noises when she watched it, making such a nuisance of himself that she’d been obliged to beat him to the floor with the couch cushions.
She glanced back at the portrait once more before returning it to the envelope and then its spot at the bottom of the box. With one final look at the box’s contents, she replaced the lid and scooted it back in the corner of the closet. For several heartbeats, she sat staring into the closet, wondering when the despair would slam into her. But as the minutes ticked by, it didn’t. She didn’t know if that made her happy or sad.
After a few more swells of the soundtrack, she kissed her fingertips and blew the kiss toward the box that held the mementoes of her life with her first true love.
"Goodbye, Troy," she said.
She wandered back into the living room, a bit sad but oddly comforted. Had she just emerged from the final step of grief, acceptance?
She’d read so many books about dealing with grief after Troy’s death. At first, they’d sounded clinical, as if written by someone who’d never experienced grief himself. Gradually, the descriptions of denial, anger, and depression had made sense as she moved through the stages. She thought she’d already accepted Troy’s death, but maybe she truly hadn’t to the point that she could resume a normal life.
But what was normal? She had a good life, and she wasn’t sure she wanted changes anytime soon.
The windswept end of the movie faded to black, and she flicked off both the TV and the DVD player. Her eyes darted to the front door at the sound of scuffing on the porch. Her heart leapt into her throat, crowding the lump already there.
Eddie? A ‘possum? Her imagination?
She stood frozen, not daring to blink. She didn’t own a gun, and she doubted anything at hand would prove an effective defense against a murderer who no doubt had acquired a weapon in the days since his release.
Nevertheless, she scanned the room, desperately searching for a weapon. At the sight of the poker beside the fireplace, she crept toward it, hoping her movements didn’t make the floorboards creak. When she wrapped her shaking fingers around the metal, it made her feel absurdly like a character in some Appalachian game of Clue. Ms. Myers in the cabin with the poker.
Should she call Reed? That would be the easiest course. And the most cowardly. She had absolutely zero desire to confront Eddie Victor alone, but what if she called Reed only to find out a cross-eyed ‘possum was the only menace lurking near her cabin? She’d feel stupid and guilty that she’d dragged him from his much-needed rest.
And what if it was Eddie? Sure, Reed had a gun. But could she live with herself if she put him in the line of fire to protect herself? No, she couldn’t, no matter the danger to her own safety. Perhaps if she’d not experienced what she had, but with the memory of Troy’s loss fresh on her mind she couldn’t endanger Reed.
Wishing the lights weren’t blazing, she moved toward the door, her heart thundering so loudly she could barely hear her own footfalls. If it was Eddie, maybe she could surprise him, skewer him in the gut before he could even lift his weapon.
Could she do it, kill another human being?
Her mind flashed to Troy lying in her arms, the life draining from his chest and his eyes. Anger, pure and frightening in its intensity, flooded through her, its heat replacing the chill the sound from the porch had caused.
She tightened her grip on the poker. The urge to have it done, to be able to move on with her life without fear, nearly made her jerk open the door and confront whomever was on her porch.
A bit of sanity sliced through the anger. What if the visitor was one of the guests with an emergency? And what if it was Reed? He’d occupied her front stoop once before. Maybe he was checking out the perimeter, making sure all was well. She couldn’t very well stab away when she didn’t know who or what she’d be stabbing until it was too late.
Could it even be her imagination? The boards in the cabin creaked all the time. Until the past few days, she’d paid them no attention. Now, even the slightest sound sent her heart into a furious hammering.